


Reparations

by unwindmyself



Category: True Blood
Genre: BDSM, BDSM therapy, Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Multiple Orgasms, Safe Sane and Consensual, never getting over it, period setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora's still a young vampire, young enough that the memory of hurts in her human life is still fresh, but she's also old enough to know what she wants to be fixed and what she wants to feel again, and she knows that Eric's the one to give it to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reparations

“I want you to tie me up,” Nora says bluntly.

Going on two years now she’s been in his life and she still manages to surprise him.

“Excuse me?” Eric asks.

“You heard perfectly well,” she retorts.  “I’d like it if you would you tie me up and make love to me.”

He sits down beside her, takes her hands in his, and all his expression reads is confusion.

“It’s simple,” she says, because she can tell he’s going to ask why.  “I like giving myself over sometimes, I like letting go.  But I don’t like to be used.”  She looks up at him, far too innocent.  “Do you understand?”

She still hasn’t brought herself to explain them explicitly, the reasons for this, but he does follow.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he can’t help but tell her.  Not hurting her matters more than not hurting – well, anyone else ever has to him.

“I don’t think you will,” she whispers.  “It’s why I’m asking.”  And her smile turns mischievous.  “Besides, it’s not too great a hardship for you, I imagine.”

Well, it’s not as if he’s never done this before, and it’s not as if he hasn’t enjoyed it, and more than that it’s not like he doesn’t like doing things that will bring her pleasure.

 

* * *

 

She’s insistent that they set rules; she knows what happens when you don’t, and that goes against the whole point of her asking Eric to do this for her.  These aren’t written down but they might as well be.  She thinks very seriously about it. 

“It’s important to say,” she begins, “When you _do_ tie me up, I almost wholly prefer my wrists together, not apart.”  She waits for him to ask why, and though he doesn’t, she explains anyway.  “It’s a matter of comfort, emotionally.  If my hands can touch I know I could get myself out if I needed to.”

“I hope you won’t need to,” he says, not sure whether to be playful about it or not.

“I hope so too,” she replies archly.  That settles that.  “But if I know I can, I’m less likely to want to.”

He nods in some kind of understanding.  “Do you care how I tie you otherwise?” he asks.  “Legs open, I assume.”

“Probably,” she shrugs.  All things in time.  “But you can tie me to things or from things or without an anchor at all, I’ll try most things once.”

“A luxury you certainly have,” he agrees.  He tips his head, regards her with some sudden curiosity.  “And once I have you tied, what should I do with you?”

_With_ , not _to_.  She’s made a good decision.

“What do you want to do?” she retorts.  What she’s really asking is what does he normally do with those he’s bound (he hasn’t even said explicitly that he does this sometimes, but she’s sure of it, she doesn’t see how in his hundreds of years he couldn’t have).

“I’m not sure yet,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes.  He very much doesn’t want to presume, and in any case it always depends on the moment.  “I’ll take control as much as you like, but I don’t put much value on formal obedience.”

“All right,” she says.  Formal obedience isn’t often her thing, either, for those reasons she doesn’t say, she doesn’t mind being bossed around but she doesn’t like arbitrary rules just to put her in her place.  “Though if you were to tell me to do something, or to _not_ do something until you say to…”

He understands that, too, and it makes him smile wickedly.  “I could do that.”

“And I don’t mind a bit of rough handling,” she continues, shrugging casually.  “Pain, even.  I’m sure I can take nearly anything now, too.”

“You can,” he promises.

“I know I enjoy it sometimes,” she says, “But if it ever becomes a proper consequence, not just something we do for fun or release, I will kick your ass, no questions.”

“I believe you,” he admits sheepishly.  “I won’t be offended if you tell me I’ve gone too far, either.”

“Good.”   It takes a minute for Nora to be able to work up the nerve for her next question, but she manages it.  “And what if I can’t tell you just then?”

Eric pulls a face.  “What do you mean?” he asks, even though he thinks he knows.

“If you were to shut me up,” she whispers.  “Stop my mouth.”

“Do you… like that?” he hesitates.  From her tone, he can’t tell if she’s asking out of interest or anxiety.

“Sometimes,” she admits.  “It – it’s giving up control, too, not talking is not directing things and sometimes I need to do that.”

“How do I know when that is?” he questions.

“You’ll know,” she insists.  She wouldn’t have asked him to play like this if she didn’t suspect he had a good instinct for it, know he had a good instinct for _her_.   “Not the first time, but eventually.  I want to feel like I can tell you I need this and know I can trust you to take it from there.  Can I do that?”

She thinks she knows the answer after nearly two years alongside him, but she has to hear him say it, too, watch his face as he does.

“Yes,” he tells her solemnly, and it’s possibly the most serious about sexual matters that he’s ever been, but it’s what’s right.  “Yes, you can.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure,” Eric not-asks just in case, nodding to the ropes in his hands.

“Yes,” Nora rolls her eyes.  “I asked it, I want it.”

He nods, and suddenly his expression goes from thoughtful to almost devilish.  “Very well,” he says.  “Be my good girl and give me your hands.”

She lowers her gaze, but she’s quick to obey, presenting her hands to him palms up.

“Good,” he echoes.  A moment of pause, then he arranges her just so and binds her wrists together.

“Tighter,” she mutters, pulling on the ropes to demonstrate their laxity.  “It’s not like you have to worry about cutting off my circulation.”

He arches an eyebrow but obliges, tugging on the ends and knotting them.  “Very well,” he repeats, and he fastens her hands to the headboard.

She pulls again, testing the tie, and when she finds there’s only a fraction of give, she grins widely.

“Satisfied?” he asks her.

“Not quite yet,” she replies, her eyes darting downward in the least subtle way.

Eric nudges her legs apart, trails his hand between them.  “You _do_ like this,” he observes, noting her wetness with a smirk.

“I told you I did,” Nora retorts, pushing her hips toward him eagerly.

He presses his palm flat over her mound to still her, shaking his head.  “I’m not done yet,” he tells her, moving down the bed and all the while trailing fingers over her skin.  He takes one ankle in his hands, caresses it tenderly before wrapping more rope around it and fixing it to the bedframe.

“ _Mmm_ ,” she murmurs, wriggling unsuccessfully.  “Do the other now.”

“So bossy for one in your position,” he teases, even as he complies.  Once he’s done he steps back, and if he still had breath, he thinks it would surely be taken away by the sight of her, all bound and beaming as she is, bare save her corset.  It’s one of the simpler ways he could arrange her, but all things in time, and they’ve got eons of it.

“Come on,” she says imploringly, arching up as best she can.

“Soon enough,” he replies.  “I’m admiring the view.”

“You can admire all you want once you’ve got me off,” she mutters, and it’s so abrupt and improper that he has to smile.  “I don’t care if you leave me tied up the rest of the night once you’re done, only –”   She pauses, and her expression and voice go softer, more traditionally submissive.  “Please?”

And how can he resist that?

“Tonight,” he says, “Is going to be about you.”  He rejoins her, kneeling between her legs and leaning forward to kiss her.  “Your game, your pleasure.  Would you like that?”

She nods enthusiastically.  “Please?” she repeats.

He lowers himself onto his stomach, smirking wickedly.  “Let’s see how sweet you taste.”

“Oh?” she asks faintly.  She’s already a bit drifty, already slipping down into herself, she’s not quite registering, but then he draws his tongue up over her center and everything comes clear.  “ _Oh._ ”

He chuckles against her flesh as he continues to lick at her, taking his time exploring.  He’s only gone down on her a few times before tonight, and usually only to get her going, start things off, but the way she’s suddenly reacting to it in these new circumstances means he’s going to do it many, many more.

“We should have done this sooner,” she gasps, bracing herself against the ropes.

“We’ll do it as much as you want from now on,” he promises, lifting his head to smile at her and nuzzling against her inner thigh.

That’s done intentionally, he knows by now that if he moves like a cat her instinct is to pet and scratch him like a cat, and when she tries she’s stopped by the ropes fixing her to the bedframe.  What he’s not expecting is how much the little whimper that falls from her lips when this happens is going to arouse him.  She’s needy, but she trusts him enough to give her this.

“Please,” she whispers, bucking her hips.

“Please what?” he asks huskily.

“Make me – I want to come apart,” she pants.

He’s brought her to orgasm countless times before tonight (and she him) but when she’s bound and spread and at his mercy like this, all intentionally vulnerable, it means something altogether different.

“ _Ja, min prinsessa_ ,” he says.  He noses against her, splays his hands out over her thighs, moves back in to kiss her bud and drag his teeth over it.

“Oh, oh, _oh_ ,” she shrieks, thrusting against him wildly.  Slowly, then, he licks all down her slit, he presses fingers into her skin, he massages her just-barely-trembling legs as he continues to lick her.

The longer it lasts, the smaller Nora’s world gets: it narrows all the way down to just her body and how still and not still it is, to the throbbing between her legs, to Eric’s voice and hands and mouth.  Nothing else matters but the sensations coursing through her, she’s given herself up for a little while and he’s taking care of her so well and that’s enough.

The closer she gets, the more little moans she makes and the needier she becomes.  He works against her with more determination to relish those sounds.  “Come when you like,” he whispers before moving back to suck on her clitoris.

And that’s all it takes.  She arches up, body contorting with the way her arms are tied; she practically shrieks out his name.

It might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen or heard.

The thing to do would be to pull away, let her up, but Eric can’t stop.  His tongue stays circling her nub, lapping up her wetness and her taste (as perfect as can be) greedily and insatiably.

“Eric, _fuck_ ,” she whimpers, muscles clenching.

“What, _min drottning_ ,” he says against her flesh.

“I’m – I want… but I can’t…”  She squeezes her eyes shut, juts her hips out in spite of herself.  She wants it and doesn’t understand it and can’t take it and wants it so much.

She’s not said it directly, but it became clear to her after being turned that while she’d not been a maid for many years, she had only known real pleasure a few times until Eric.  Eric who’s shown her parts of her body she hadn’t known existed, Eric who’s brought her to the edge countless times, Eric who – who takes care of her.

“You can,” he tells her softly, drawing his tongue up her slit.

She believes him.  He pushes her past what she’d thought possible, but he doesn’t want to hurt her, he just wants to make her happy.  And all at once, she strains against the ropes and her limbs lift as much as they can as she comes again.

“Good,” he whispers, sitting up on his knees.  She thinks for a moment that he’s going to untie her, but he just places a hand at the back of her neck and brings her face toward his to kiss while he uses the other hand to stroke at her oversensitive flesh.  She moans into his mouth – she can taste herself on him, it feels somehow scandalous – and tilts her head even closer.

“More,” she pants, even though she’s still not sure if her body will take it, wound tight as she feels.

“I promise,” he says, plunging three fingers into her and circling her nub with his thumb.  Minutes pass like this before he leans close to whisper against her skin, “Does this feel good?”

“Perfect,” she whimpers, her hips twitching as she reaches another peak.  “More.”

He caresses her through two and then three and then four more orgasms, each getting closer and closer together, her cries getting wilder and wilder, and he kisses her and pets her hair and runs hands across her thighs and down her arms to keep her from shaking too fiercely.  There’s nothing in the world but this bed, these ropes, his body, and her body, and it’s the rightest thing she can imagine.

When they’re nearing number eight, she cries out, “Mercy.”  There’s a little laugh in her voice as she does, but it’s a clear cue for him to stop no matter, so he withdraws and sits on his knees between her spread legs.

“You’re crying, sister,” he says with a slight frown, reaching to wipe her tears away but stilling his hand before he does, in case she doesn’t even want those touches yet.

She laughs again, her head lolling forward so her chin rests against her chest.  “S’good,” she murmurs.  Her voice is slurred, full sentences aren’t yet happening.  “Happy tears.”

It’s a concept that Eric’s not so familiar with in the general sense, to say nothing of the fact that Nora rarely cries at all, but she seems all right, so mostly he doesn’t worry.  “I wasn’t expecting that, I admit,” he almost-teases.  Well, it’s not exactly how things have gone any other time he’s tied someone up, it’s more than one party being the ravisher and one the willing ravished.  It’s something deeper than that.

“Me either,” she says.  If it weren’t for the ropes pulling her arms up, she’d have fallen fully over by now, limp as she’s gone.  “Never has before.”

“But it’s good,” he echoes.

“Yes,” she agrees.  “It’s good.  I’m good.”

It’s clear they’re done for the night – and it’s late enough they’re not going to get into anything else – so he starts undoing the ropes at her ankles, lifting each in turn and just slightly kissing them.  He unhooks her corset, tears it off of her, throws it to the ground, he unfastens her hands from the bed and guesses accurately that he’s going to have to catch her and support her weight, but when he goes for her wrists, she shakes her head.

“Not yet,” she tells him.  “Just a little longer?”

He can guess as much, so he just eases her to lying down and wraps an arm about her now-bare waist.  “All right,” he whispers.  “I’ve got you.”

“I know.”


End file.
